Tryst at a motel

Gender:

Male

One year while on a family vacation I had an experience I thought you might like to hear about. It was a turning point that I think has affected my entire masturbatory sex life. I am now 37 years old and enjoy a great solo sex life without guilt.

I was in my mid-teens. My parents, my sister, and myself were traveling by car on vacation. My dad always liked to get as many miles in as possible before stopping for the night. He eventually found a small motel, and shortly after midnight we settled in for a night's sleep. We had one room with two double beds, so my mom and my sister took one, and my dad and I took the other.

My dad fell asleep quickly because he was tired from the long day's drive. I could tell he was asleep because of his light snoring. I had no idea if my mom or sister were asleep or not, but as I lay there trying to fall asleep, I heard a car pull up and park outside. I heard the doors shut, and then I heard the sound of the people entering the room next to ours. I didn't think anything of it, because this was a motel after all, so I went back to trying to fall asleep.

A little while later I heard what I thought was somebody knocking lightly on the wall at the head of my bed. I quickly disregarded this also, thinking it was just miscellaneous motel noise. People moving suitcases, stuff like that. A few minutes passed and I heard the sound again. Just a light tapping on the wall. I glanced at the clock — it was around 1:00. I disregarded it again and went back to trying to fall asleep, but every once in a while the tapping would start up again. It didn't sound like somebody knocking anymore, because it wasn't just a knock or two — it was a constant tap, like something was bumping up against the wall. I lay there and listened, and soon I started hearing more sounds, but these sounds I recognized almost immediately. It was the sound of bed springs squeaking. Shortly after that, I heard what sounded like a girl making grunting sounds that almost matched the tapping on the wall. It was about 1:15 when I finally realized what was going on.

I lay there and listed to the couple have sex for what seemed like an eternity, but I was afraid to move, because I didn't want to wake up my dad. I was afraid that he would make a scene of some sort, like calling the motel manager to complain, or like banging on the wall and telling them to keep it down. (I had seen him grouch at people for making noise after hours in campgrounds and stuff.) I watched the minutes roll by on the clock. I had an erection that felt like it was going to bust a blood vessel or something, but I couldn't do a thing about it. There were way too many downsides to trying to masturbate right there in bed. First of all, I might have woken up my dad. Second, my mom and sister may not have even been asleep yet, even though it seemed like I was the only one who was aware of what was happening. Third, there was the inevitable mess — how would I deal with that? So I lay there perfectly still until after 2:00, listening to that couple go at it.

They would get it on pretty heavy at times, and other times it would quiet down a bit. I had no idea what they looked like, but you never imagine ugly people having sex! In my mind all I could see was this gorgeous girl getting penetrated in every imaginable way, and having a pretty good time of it from the sound of things. My heart was pounding so hard I'm surprised it didn't wake everybody up.

The longer they went at it, the worst my situation got. My testicles were so tight they ached, and my erection was throbbing almost constantly. Every once in a while the couple would really get into it. They would go at it so hard that the sounds of their bed, and the sounds that they were making (especially the girl), would make my penis twitch like it was going to jump right out of my sweats.

Eventually, the sounds stopped, and I heard them leave. Now, I was in a serious predicament. My erection had been like a rock for the last hour. The throbbing and twitching had gotten to a point that could have been comical if the situation hadn't been as desperate as it was. I'm sure my testicles must have been a deep shade of blue. I needed a release in the worst way, so after waiting for as long as I possibly could to make extra sure everybody was actually asleep, I slowly crept out of bed. I made my way to the bathroom, which as it turned out was right next to the bed my mom and sister were sleeping in. I closed the door and turned on the light, and of course every motel bathroom has a 747-jet-engine exhaust fan connected to the light switch. I could only hope that if it woke anybody up, they would just think I was taking a whiz.

The bathroom was super small, and there wasn't any room to get comfortable, so I just sat down on the floor and leaned back against the side of the bathtub. I had worn a pair of sweatpants to bed, but I wasn't wearing a shirt. I pushed the sweatpants down along with my underwear and kicked them off into the corner. The tile floor was cold, but at that point I barely noticed. I grabbed my penis and started masturbating like it was going to save my life. It was already seeping fluid from the tip, and that quickly served to lube things up a bit. I was so worked up it didn't take long for me to ejaculate — and at that age, I could fight fires with the amount of semen I produced, not to mention the force with which it shot out. Well, this time was no exception. I got off like a volcano and it went everywhere. Afterward I was so spent I just sat there trembling and trying to get my breath back.

Just as I realized someone was knocking on the bathroom door, my mom was already swinging the door open. Two seconds later she was staring down at me as I was sitting on the floor with my penis still jutting out of my clenched fist. There was semen all over me. There were globs of it on my stomach, and it was matted into my pubic hair. My penis, scrotum, and fist were all slippery with it, and because I had used my free hand as a shield to keep from getting blasted in the face, there were streams of semen running down my thighs and puddling on the floor between my legs, not to mention the palm of my free hand.

Well, I can tell you one thing — I have never felt so good and so horrified at the same time in my entire life. I tried to stop trembling and prepared myself for some *super* trouble, but my mom was cool about it. I couldn't believe it. The first thing out of her mouth was, "Are you okay?"

Was I okay? Hell, no — I was sitting on the bathroom floor with semen all over me, and my mom was standing right there in the doorway looking at me.

Of course she didn't wait for an answer, because by then she knew the situation, so she apologized for opening the door and told me she had thought I was sick from the car ride, and had come to check on me. I've thought about that since then, and I can only assume I must have been making noises that made her think I was sick. Otherwise, she should have just thought it was a normal trip to the bathroom. I've also wondered why I didn't lock the door, but at the time I had an urgent need to get my hand on my penis as soon as humanly possible. Locking the door didn't even enter my mind at that moment. My train of thought on the way to the bathroom went something like this: "I have *got* to masturbate...I have *got* to masturbate...I have *got* to masturbate!" That about sums it up.

Anyway, she told me to "get cleaned up" and get back to bed, because we had a busy day ahead of us the next day. I wish she had just left instead of saying that, though, because it removed all doubt that she had seen the mess I had made. Whew...I still shudder when I think of that.

The next day, my mom took me aside and told me I wasn't in any trouble, and that she wouldn't mention it to anyone, not even my dad. She told me she realized it was a private matter and that in the future she would try to be more careful and respect my privacy. I couldn't believe my ears, but I was greatly relieved, and am eternally grateful for the way she handled the situation. Well, as far as I know, my mom kept her promise, because I never heard anything more about that night, and afterward she always waited for me to say it was okay for her to come into my room after she knocked. My dad never really walked in on me masturbating, although he did walk into my bedroom unannounced once — but I had heard him coming and had enough time to pull the covers up to my armpits and hide what I was doing...and the magazine I was doing it to.

I think the motel incident did two things to me. I believe the horror of being caught has caused me to develop a fetish for masturbation that exceeds the norm. I do it as often as I can, and in some pretty unconventional ways. But I also think the compassion my mom showed has helped me overcome the guilt that is usually associated with masturbation. I do it and I don't feel bad about it. I've even been able to have some in-depth conversations about it with a few close friends. It's amazing what you can learn from a friend once all of the cards are on the table. I realize you can't talk to just anybody about it — but if you have a close friend whom you can trust, you can bring it up gradually, and if they're willing to be honest with you, you can slowly work your way into some very interesting conversations. One easy way to do that, and I've done it with several friends so far, is to tell them about JackinWorld. It's a great ice-breaker.

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